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Then the Spaniard was asked to swear that the horse was his own and he had had it for many years. Then the Indian asked to send for the horse. This was done. And the Indian said: ‘This man swears that he has had this horse for many years; let him, therefore tell you in which of the eyes the horse is blind.’
The Spaniard said at once: ‘In the right eye.’
‘You are wrong’, said the Indian. ‘Neither in the right nor in the left, it is not blind at all.’
And so the horse was returned to the Indian.
Dirty Boots
Once Swift went on a journey, accompanied by his servant. They were both on horseback.[8] The journey was long, so when night came, they had to stop at an inn.
In the morning Swift asked for his boots. The servant brought them, but the writer saw that they were as dirty as the night before. ‘Why haven’t you cleaned my boots?’ he asked his lazy servant.
‘Well, sir, as you are going to ride today, I thought that if I cleaned them, they would soon be dirty again’.
‘All right, get the horses ready,[9]’ Swift said, and went to have his breakfast. Then he paid his bill and left the inn. His servant was already in front of the inn with the horses.
‘Well, let’s go on.’
‘But, sir, I’m hungry, I haven’t had my breakfast yet.’
‘Never mind, if you had, you would soon be hungry again’, the author replied and rode away. The lazy servant had to follow his master, but he never forgot the lesson he had been taught.
A Traveller’s Tale
In the autumn of 1935, when I was a young man, I was traveling in the north-west of India. One evening, after hunting in the forest all day, I was returning alone to the place where I had put up my tent. It was getting dark,[10] and I was walking along a narrow path. On my right was a wide river; on my left, a thick, dark forest. Suddenly I saw two green eyes looking at me from among the trees. A man-eating tiger[11] was getting ready to jump on me.
What could I do? Should I jump into the river and hope to save my life by swimming? I looked to the right. In the river there was an immense crocodile waiting to welcome me with its mouth wide open.
I was so frightened that I shut my eyes. I heard branches moving as the tiger jumped. I opened my eyes. What do you think had happened? The tiger had jumped right over me and was now in the jaws of the crocodile. That’s a true story, believe it or not!
The Letter-Box Key
Once an Englishman went to the seashore for his summer holidays. He asked his housekeeper to post him all letters that she would receive during his absence. She promised him to do that.
The Englishman rested very well. A month passed but he received no letters. He thought it strange and he rang up his housekeeper:
‘Why didn’t you post my letters?’
‘Because you didn’t leave me the key of the letter-box,’ was the reply.
The Englishman apologized and promised to send her the key. In some days he put the key into an envelope, wrote down his address on it and posted the letter.
Another month was passing but still he did not receive the letters.
When at the end of the month he returned home, he spoke angrily with his housekeeper.
‘But what could I do?’ asked the poor woman. ‘The key which you posted was in the locked letter-box too.’
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Many years ago there was an Emperor so fond of[12] new clothes that he spent all his money on new dresses. He did not care about his soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, he only liked to show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day.
In the great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.
‘Those would be just the clothes for me,’ thought the Emperor. ‘If I wore them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get some of the stuff woven for me right away.’ He paid the two swindlers a large sum of money to start work at once.
They set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms. All the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night.
‘I’d like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth,’ the Emperor thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn’t have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he’d rather send someone else to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth’s peculiar power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were.
‘I’ll send my honest old minister to the weavers,’ the Emperor decided. ‘He’ll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he’s a sensible man and no one does his duty better.’
So the honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away at their empty looms.
‘Heaven help me,’ he thought as his eyes flew wide open, ‘I can’t see anything at all’. But he did not say so.
Both the swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent pattern, the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing to see. ‘Heaven have mercy,’ he thought. ‘Can it be that I’m a fool? I’d have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can’t see the cloth.’
‘Don’t hesitate to tell us what you think of it,’ said one of the weavers.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful – it’s enchanting.’ The old minister peered through his spectacles. ‘Such a pattern, what colors!’ I’ll be sure to tell the Emperor how delighted[13] I am with it.’
‘We’re pleased to hear that,’ the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did.
The swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.
The Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing to see in the looms he couldn’t see anything.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful piece of goods?’ the swindlers asked him, as they displayed and described their imaginary pattern.
‘I know I’m not stupid,’ the man thought, ‘so it must be that I’m unworthy of my good office. That’s strange. I mustn’t let anyone find it out, though.’ So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was delighted with the beautiful colors and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor he said, ‘It held me spellbound.’
All the town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men, among whom were his two old trusted officials – the ones who had been to the weavers – he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might and main, but without a thread in their looms.
‘Magnificent,’ said the two officials already duped. ‘Just look, Your Majesty, what colors! What a design!’ They pointed to the empty looms, each supposing that the others could see the stuff.
‘What’s this?’ thought the Emperor. ‘I can’t see anything. This is terrible!
Am I a fool? Am I unfit to be the Emperor? What a thing to happen to me of all people! – Oh! It’s very pretty,’ he said. ‘It has my highest approval.’ And he nodded approbation at the empty loom. Nothing could make him say that he couldn’t see anything.
His whole retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined the Emperor in exclaiming, ‘Oh! It’s very pretty,’ and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially for the great procession he was soon to lead. ‘Magnificent! Excellent! Unsurpassed!’ were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best to seem well pleased. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in his buttonhole, and the title of ‘Sir Weaver.’
Before the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles, to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor’s new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors. And at last they said, ‘Now the Emperor’s new clothes are ready for him.’
Then the Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised an arm as if they were holding something. They said, ‘These are the trousers, here’s the coat, and this is the mantle,’ naming each garment. ‘All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had nothing on, but that’s what makes them so fine.’
‘Exactly,’ all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing to see.
‘If Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off,’ said the swindlers, ‘we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the long mirror.’
The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something – that was his train – as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.
‘How well Your Majesty’s new clothes look. Aren’t they becoming!’ He heard on all sides, ‘That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit.’
Then the minister of public processions announced: ‘Your Majesty’s canopy is waiting outside.’
‘Well, I’m supposed to be ready,’ the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. ‘It is a remarkable fit, isn’t it?’ He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest.
The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn’t dare admit they had nothing to hold.
So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, ‘Oh, how fine are the Emperor’s new clothes! Don’t they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!’ Nobody would confess that he couldn’t see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.
‘But he hasn’t got anything on,’ a little child said.
‘Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?’ said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, ‘He hasn’t anything on. A child says he hasn’t anything on.’
‘But he hasn’t got anything on!’ the whole town cried out at last.
The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, ‘This procession has got to go on.’ So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.
The Princess and the Pea
Once upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess.
One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.
It was a princess standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious![14] what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look. The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real princess.
Well, we’ll soon find that out, thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bedroom, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a pea on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.
On this the princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.
‘Oh, very badly!’ said she. ‘I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something hard, so that I am black and blue[15] all over my body. It’s horrible!’
Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the pea right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.
Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.
So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it.
There, that is a true story.
The Lion and the Mouse
Once when a Lion was asleep a little Mouse began running up and down upon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon him, and opened his big jaws to swallow him. ‘Pardon, my King,’ cried the little Mouse: ‘forgive me this time, I shall never forget it: who knows but what I may be able to do you a turn[16] some of these days?’ The Lion was so tickled at[17] the idea of the Mouse being able to help him, that he lifted up his paw and let him go.
Some time after the Lion was caught in a trap, and the hunters who desired to carry him alive to the King, tied him to a tree while they went in search of a wagon to carry him on. Just then the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing the sad plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed[18] away the ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. ‘Was I not right?’ said the little Mouse.
The Small Red Feather
There once lived a man with his wife. They were very poor and always hungry. The man often went to the forest, but he was a bad hunter and sometimes brought home only a small bird.
One day he went to the forest again. But it was a very bad day for him: he did not find even a small bird. He was tired[19] and sad. He sat down to rest under a tree. Then he heard a sweet song of a bird.
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